Winter Eve
by rendezvoushero
Summary: COMPLETE A young, brooding Severus Snape is greeted by a young witch, who knows more about him than anyone else, in the Leaky Cauldron one chilly January night. Rated for third chapter. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Severus Snape or any other characters from the Harry Potter universe. They all belong to JK Rowling. I'm not making any money off this story, just weaving my own tale for one of her brilliant characters. The only person I own is Amelie.

A/N: There may be spoilers in here, so if you haven't read HBP, beware! Rated for like, the very last chapter. R&R!

Chapter One

It was grey and bitter cold outside. As bright as the city was, and as vast was its network of pubs in which to warm oneself, the young man who was quickly making his way through the snow knew of only one place he could go to escape the chill of that winter's night. A dank, dreary-looking door that only he could see, loomed in the distance, crammed into the middle of Charing Cross Road. His pace quickened, and within a minute he had crossed the threshold into a dark, but warm, inn.

"Hello there, son," the toothless barman said cheerily, pouring a glass of butterbeer. "Here, take this, it'll warm you up." He pushed the steaming flask across the bar to the youth, along with a good-sized piece of chocolate.

"Thank you." It was barely a whisper, but it made it to Tom's frail ears, and he nodded, watching the black-clad figure make his way into a dark corner of the pub, a small trunk in tow.

He had just graduated from Hogwarts; he still wore the green and silver scarf the school had given the students back in their first year. He pulled back his head to reveal a pale face, black eyes, a rather large nose, and lank, greasy black hair. His expression was blank as he quietly sipped at his butterbeer and shivered beneath his robes.

Severus Snape couldn't remember the last time he had come to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink. Usually he was just passing through to make his way out into Diagon Alley for new school supplies. It felt rather odd that after seven years of calling the expansive castle home, he would probably never see the school again.

Not that it mattered all that much to him; after first year, things only went downhill for him. As popular as he was in his own house, Slytherin, not many others seemed to like him. Probably because he was so much smarter than them, he had figured. Not many first years entered Hogwarts knowing more Dark Magic than half the seventh years. And the 'Marauders', as they so foolishly called themselves, didn't make life any better.

The one thing that had probably kept him sane at school had been her. Shining red hair, brilliant green eyes, and a skill at Potions that few (besides himself) were able to match. Lily Evans had made enduring every single day at Hogwarts worth it.

They had met in secret once a month for two years. He had never told her how much he cared about her, or how much he wanted to be with her, or how beautiful she was. How brave she had to be to meet a Slytherin after hours.

And then he had to go and call her a Mudblood…

He shook his head and drew his cloak tighter around his thin body as the door was flung open and the chill night air seeped into the bar. It must have begun to snow again, for a large amount of white fluff had accompanied the tall figure that had just entered the pub.

"Evening, Tom," a female voice said from under a blue traveling cloak.

"Ah, hello dear," Tom said, placing another glass on the counter and moving towards the large wooden keg of butterbeer.

"Reckon I'll have some firewhiskey tonight, Tom," the woman said as she removed her cloak.

Severus watched from the dark as she did this. Her long sable hair had once been in a plait, but had begun to fall out and bits now lay gracefully on her shoulders. Her face was pale in the dim firelight, but her smile emitted only warmth.

"Really getting cold out there, isn't it?" Tom asked as he poured a small amount of the strong liquor into a smaller glass.

"You're telling me," she answered, a shiver running down her spine.

Severus stared at the young woman, trying to remember why she was so familiar. The scarf that was still wrapped tightly around her neck was blue and grey, an obvious sign that she had been a Ravenclaw. But had she graduated the same year he had? Surely he would have at least remembered Dumbledore handing her a diploma, or watched as her parents and friends cried in happiness over her success…?

She must have felt his gaze upon her, for she turned her head and looked over at him, peering into the gloom to try and identify him.

"Why hello, Severus," she said, a knowing smile breaking across her face.

He choked on his butterbeer as she stood and calmly walked over to join him in the corner. His eyes narrowed as she took a seat across from him, her firewhiskey still in her hand.

"You don't remember me, do you." It wasn't a question; she knew from his blank stare that he had no idea who she was. "It's alright. It took me a second to figure out who you were, too. The nose gave it away."

Snape glared at her and brought a hand up to his face to cover his rather large, hooked nose. "Should I know you?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, I wouldn't expect you to. Ravenclaw, if you couldn't already tell," she answered, pointing to the scarf. "Although, I _did_ sit next to you for our Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T.s. And I stood next to you during Apparition lessons sixth year." She took a sip of whiskey and winced.

Severus tried to recall any of this, but was drawing blanks. Someone had helped him up when he tripped over his shoelace trying to Apparate for the first time…had that been her?

As if she had read his mind, she smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I helped you up after you fell over that first time. Didn't seem very grateful, now that I remember…" Her voice trailed and she shrugged.

Snape stared at the girl, confused and trying desperately to place a name to her face. But it was no use; frustrated, he blurted out, "Who are you?"

A mischievous smile flitted across the young woman's freckled face; her amber eyes gleamed in the candlelight as she said, "You can call me Amelie."

"Does that mean that your real name is something you'd rather not tell me?" Snape asked suspiciously, his right arm slowly reaching for his wand.

"No, but these are dark times, Severus. Not many people would willingly say hello to a man cloaked in black, sitting in a dark corner of a bar," she answered softly as she took another swig of her drink.

"I hope you are not insinuating that I work for _Him_," Severus snarled through clenched teeth.

"No, of course not." She finished her drink and looked calmly into his dark onyx eyes, as if she were trying to find some way into his mind. "But I know how deeply you are considering it."

Severus felt his entire body tense up as he wrenched his eyes away from her gaze. Surely she couldn't read minds? Legilimency was very advanced magic, and she had only graduated a few months ago. Even more reason for him to become better skilled at Occlumency…

"How would you know that?" he hissed, now clutching his wand beneath his robes.

"It's written all over your face, Severus. And you lost practically everything you hold near and dear to your heart that day in June." Her eyes twinkled innocently. Severus was feeling more and more unnerved by her as the seconds ticked by.

"What are you talking about?"

"They're married, you know. Wed a few months ago, straight out of school." She beckoned Tom, who hastily brought two large, steaming mugs of hot cocoa and a bowl of marshmallows. She placed several on top of the brown liquid and magically stirred it with her index finger, almost absentmindedly.

Snape gave the marshmallows a foul look and pushed his now cold butterbeer out of the way, and pulled the cocoa towards him. "Who is married?" he asked offhandedly, although in his heart he already knew the answer.

"James and Lily," Amelie whispered.

"No!" Severus pounded a fist on the table and sent red sparks shooting out of his wand. "You're lying!" He could feel unshed tears burning his eyes.

Amelie shook her head and smiled at him sympathetically. "No, I'm not, Severus. And you know that." She took a sip of her cocoa. "Why are you so upset?"

The brooding young man peered into her golden eyes, trying with all his power to use Legilimency and find out what she was up to. However, he was meeting nothing but a blank wall; he sighed and gave up. "Because…"

She smirked. "Because of what?"

He was amazed he had let the conversation progress as long as it had. "It's really none of your business, now, is it?" he snapped.

"No, it isn't," the young witch said with a heavy sigh, unaffected by his rude tone. "You just looked like you needed someone to talk to, that's all."

"Well, I don't, thank you," he said curtly. "Tom, I need a room for the night, if you don't mind," he called across the bar.

The barman nodded and waved his wand at the small trunk sitting at Severus' feet so it hovered a few inches off the floor and followed him up the stairs.

Amelie continued to stare and smile at Snape, almost as if she were in a trance. She had pulled her hair away from her neck, revealing a nasty blemish along the edge of her throat.

Snape's eyes widened as he asked, "What happened?"

"Oh, nothing," she replied in a quiet voice. "Really none of your business, is it?" she smirked and took a gulp of cocoa.

Snape rolled his eyes and made to leave the table, saying, "I can tell this conversation is going to go in circles, so if you'll excuse me, I'll be –"

"No, don't go," Amelie said, resting a pale hand over his own. "I know you loved her, I just wanted to hear you say it."

He glared down at her and sunk back into his seat. "How would…how do you know all this?" he sneered, very put off by how much she knew.

"I heard you telling her, that day you called her a Mudblood. The day she told you she couldn't see you anymore, that things were getting too complicated," Amelie explained in a hushed voice.

Snape blinked back more tears, refusing to allow them to trickle down his pallid face and show weakness.

"It'll feel better once you talk about it," she said in a soothing voice.

He sniffed and asked, "How so?" as he pulled his hand out from under hers.

"Trust me, it will. It always feels a little better once you just let it out."

And allowing his impregnable guard to fall, Severus relented and felt hot tears stinging his face.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Severus Snape or any other characters from the Harry Potter universe. They all belong to JK Rowling. I'm not making any money off this story, just weaving my own tale for one of her brilliant characters. The only person I own is Amelie.

A/N: Definite HBP spoilers towards the end of this chapter!

Chapter Two

Allowing his impregnable guard to fall, Severus relented and felt hot tears stinging his face as he said, "Yes, alright, I loved her. Big deal."

"It is a big deal," Amelie whispered.

Severus held his head in his left hand and murmured, "She was everything to me. The only thing that made life in that hell hole worth living. She was so kind, so beautiful…so perfect." He could feel his tears dripping off his chin and running into his mouth. "And then my pride got in the way. As did Potter and Black. I never, _ever_ did anything to them. All that was wrong with me, in their opinion, was that I _existed_. That somehow they were better than me."

"Everyone has their own talents," Amelie shrugged, and pushed the still steaming mug of cocoa closer to the young man.

"And theirs was making life hell for the rest of us," Snape said bitterly. "And the damn werewolf…"

"Ah, yes, Remus." She smiled at Snape's look of astonishment, and said, "It was pretty obvious after a while. Anyway, continue."

He sighed. "They made a spectacle of me in front of half the school that afternoon. I was so angry with them, so fed up with their constant nagging, I lost it. I didn't even realize what I had said until James had used that Scouring charm on me…I felt…"

Felt like he should have killed himself right then and there. Why he was pouring his heart out to this woman he hardly knew was beyond him, and yet, for some reason, he felt like he could trust her. Like she had been sent there to help him past his demons.

"What? What did you feel?" she pushed.

"I felt sick for the rest of the day. She found me sulking over by the edge of the forest. Her eyes were so bloodshot she could have been bleeding out of them. She obviously knew I had been crying as well…she broke it off. Said it was getting too difficult to feign hating me when she was around Potter and his friends…" his voice cracked and he wished that the shadows would swallow him whole.

He felt her warm hand rubbing his arm through the black fabric of his cloak and robes, and found himself feeling rather hot. He struggled for a moment and peeled his cloak off, placing it in a heap on the seat next to him. Amelie replaced her hand on his arm and smiled at him.

"I was the only one she ever told," she whispered. "She knew she couldn't tell any of her Gryffindor friends, because they would loyally report it to James or Sirius, or Remus even. She made me swear not to tell anyone…like I was going to."

Snape pulled a white handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his nose, still sniffling. "What did she tell you?" he asked.

"That your bitter exterior was only a shield to all the taunts that the Marauders threw at you," she replied sweetly. "Granted, I was still a bit wary at first…you being a Slytherin and knowing so much about the Dark Arts…" Severus grinned at this comment. "But she would always come back with some remark about how kind you were to her, and how intelligent you were…naturally I trusted her judgment."

They sat in silence for a moment, each of them sipping intently at their cocoa and watching the shadows from the fire dance across the walls.

"I didn't think she would ever date someone who was evil," she said in a hushed voice.

Snape nodded his head in agreement. "Some in Slytherin were – still are – pure evil. I can safely say that I wasn't born to be one of those people."

"You think people are born evil?" Amelie asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"But of course; how can you explain someone as terrifying and powerful as Lord Voldemort?" he answered; she did not wince at the name. "How can you believe that someone like that wasn't born with all that hate…all that prejudice flowing through their veins?"

"Nobody is _born_ evil, Severus!" she exclaimed. "It's a corruption of the soul, evil is. I believe everyone is born pure, and their experiences in life and the people they encounter are the reasons for the corruptions."

"You're very naïve," Snape whispered. "There is no happy medium, where you're free to choose what you can become. You're born with a destiny, you're born without that power to choose."

"I would say you're the naïve one, Severus. There's always been that happy medium, and always will be!" Amelie stared at him, incredulous. "I see you sitting there, drenched in shadow, haunted by memories of people that saw you for nothing more than a fleck of lint on their robes. And I feel all the hate in you, quietly waiting for the time when you choose to let it out and give in to evil." Her gaze was piercing.

_This is insane_, Snape thought as he again tore his eyes away from her to stare down at the floor. Nobody had ever taken such an interest in him before, and now, tonight of all nights, a person he didn't even know decided to point out each and every one of his flaws. As if he didn't know them by heart already.

"Am I right?" she asked.

Snape blinked and muttered something indiscernible.

"Sorry?"

"Yes!" he hissed through a veil of stringy black hair.

"Severus," she cooed, moving her chair so she was next to him instead of across from him. "Severus, look at me." He refused to budge; next he knew, he felt her long, tapering fingers lightly grasp his chin and pull his face back up. Her smile was full of compassion, something he rarely felt or received. "Life is not drawn in black and white. There's plenty of grey in it, and it is our choices and the people we surround ourselves with that pull us into the darkness or bring us back into the light."

"Then explain Voldemort," Snape whispered. "Explain a man who tortures and kills Muggles for sport; tell me how he wasn't born that way."

"He too was born into the happy medium; this grey area. The people that cared for him and the decisions he made were what shaped him into who he was…who he is," she said calmly. "And as I recall, you weren't the nicest of people in school, either."

Snape rolled his eyes and sighed. "I may have been an ass to people at Hogwarts, yes, but that was because I couldn't trust anyone! They were all so stuck up, so arrogant. Even most of the Slytherins had empty pride," he explained.

"You see! You were molded into who you are now because of the people around you! Cold and impersonal because of the Marauders, proud because of your talent…" her voice faded as Snape continued.

"It's not like you can rely on anyone else in the world anyway! If your argument is true, then everyone is corrupt in some way or another; nobody is that pure. You have yourself and nobody else to depend on," he ranted.

She stared at him, golden eyes wide. "That's a very dismal perspective on life," she said in a hushed voice. "Can you not see the beauty in it at all?"

"Where is this beauty you speak of? I see no proof of its existence!" Snape exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

Amelie shook her head and smiled. "But you do, Severus. You find beauty in the potions you brew, and you find it in the spells you work. You see it in the shadows that you lurk in and in the dungeons you called your home." Her voice sounded almost melodic as she spoke the words.

Snape blinked at her, his face blank and his mind working in overdrive. This woman…this woman was speaking the honest truth about him; honest truths that even he had never been sure of.

"Why do you feel the need to isolate yourself?" she asked quietly, her hand still resting gently on his arm.

"I told you! One can only rely on oneself; you cannot trust anyone anymore," he answered, annoyance lacing his words.

"And yet you seem to have no difficulty trusting me."

Snape felt himself blush. "Yes…well…" The truth was, he couldn't explain why he trusted her at all.

Amelie smirked, triumphant. "As I remember, you were one for the Dark Arts. Always buried in a book no doubt taken from the Slytherin common room. You knew more curses as a first year than anyone I know," she said nonchalantly.

"Your point?" Snape bit.

"It's very impressive," she said with a charming air.

Snape was sure he had just melted into the seat he was in. A compliment about his talent for the Dark Arts? He had never received one from someone like her until tonight.

"Well, I _did_ create a few handy spells when I wasn't being heckled by those insufferable Gryffindors," he said in a rather haughty tone. "The one they used to flip me over? Mine, as I'm sure countless others they used to impress other Gryffindors were. Funny how none of them wanted to challenge me one on one, isn't it? They were probably too worried I would curse them straight to hell."

He laughed at the thought of fighting Black in a duel. It would probably be over very quickly, with him, Severus, as the victor.

"And you were probably the greatest Potions student Professor Slughorn ever had the opportunity to teach," Amelie added as she magicked a new cup of cocoa onto the table.

"Yes, if I couldn't curse them, I could poison them," Snape hissed, a devilish grin playing across his pale, youthful face. "If given the proper equipment, I could probably come up with my own, more deadly and accurate than those in possession of the Ministry."

"More potent, too," she slipped in.

Snape nodded and took another sip of his own cocoa as she beamed at him, impressed beyond words. His stomach tightened and he squirmed about in his chair; something wasn't right. She had suddenly become far too interested in his talents for anyone making innocent conversation.

_Oh please, you're probably nervous because she's taking an interest in you_, he thought.

_But – _

_Don't ruin this for yourself, you git!_

The uneasiness was pushed to the back of his mind, lurking in the dark recesses to spring back at him.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, concerned.

"No, nothing. Why?"

"You just looked…oh, never mind." She sighed and looked out the window; the snow continued to fall outside, even heavier than before. She turned and looked back at him with a playful smile on her face. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

"It's freezing out," he whispered in response.

Amelie giggled. "And are you not a wizard?"

Snape was confused. "Yes…but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Oh, come on," the young woman sighed, taking his hand gently in hers. "You have your Apparition license, right?" He nodded and quickly pulled his black traveling cloak back over his shoulders. "Right, well, Apparate to St. James' Park." And with that, she was gone.

_You really don't have to follow her, you know,_ a little voice said. _You could just go up to your room, crawl in bed, and sleep. You really could._

He sighed and shook his head. _I know. But something is telling me to_. He closed his eyes and focused on the park, anywhere in the park, and stepped into uncomfortable nothingness.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Severus Snape or any other characters from the Harry Potter universe. They all belong to JK Rowling. I'm not making any money off this story, just weaving my own tale for one of her brilliant characters. The only person I own is Amelie.

Chapter Three

He could feel the painful squeeze as he was sucked into blackness, suffocating him and spitting him out in the middle of a snow-covered green.

Amelie was waiting patiently under a large tree, holding a brilliant blue light in the palm of her hands.

"Are you mad? Put that away, someone might see!" Snape called, rushing over to her and closing her palms for her. He saw her smirk. "Remind me why you wanted to come out here?" he asked as his body began to shiver.

"Because it's so beautiful right now," she whispered, and bounded out from under the tree and into the snow.

Snape watched her, mesmerized. Her hair streamed out behind her and her blue cloak was soon speckled with white flecks. She twirled around in circles, as if she had transformed from the mature young woman she was into a child; her robes fanned out like a gown as she danced in the wonderland the moonlight created for her.

He wanted to join her; God knows how he was aching to throw caution and pride to the wind and dance with her, but no. Snape remained in the shadow of the trees, watching from a distance as always.

"Come on, you goose!" she called to him.

"No, it's…it's ok. I'm fine here," he answered, shivering even more.

"It'll keep you warm!"

She had a point; anything besides standing still would create a little body heat. He groaned and stepped into the light, stalking ever so slowly towards her. She stretched her arms out towards him, her hands open and waiting for his to join them. Reluctantly, he placed his gloved hands in hers and she pulled him forward as she continued to dance.

"Dance!" she exclaimed when he didn't move.

"I don't dance," he muttered, drawing his scarf up over his lips. His nose was freezing; damn it for being as large as it was.

"You danced with her," she said bitterly, although she continued to twirl.

"What, did you follow us around like a little dog?" he spat, annoyed with this girl who seemed to have been at every meeting he and Lily ever had.

"I told you, that girl told me everything," she sang, lifting her gaze to the heavens. The long scar on her neck had once again revealed itself.

"Honestly, Amelie, what happened to your neck?" Snape asked. The wound looked rather new, like she had only received it a few months ago. But what – or who – in the world would do something like that?

She dropped her arms and stared at him blankly, although Snape was sure he saw a hint of shock move across her delicate features. Was it because he had finally used her name? He couldn't be sure.

"Why do you want to know?" she inquired, suspicious.

"It's only fair," he shrugged. "You seem to know so much about me and I so little about you, so…"

The woman traipsed through the snow to one of the benches along the walk, and with a wave of her hand, the snow cleared itself off and the wood was dry. She took a seat; Snape followed suit and sat next to her, curious as hell. She sighed, trying to find the right words, but there was silence for a few moments.

Snape watched her eagerly, the way her mind worked when she thought. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head, looking for a way to explain something that must have been quite a horrible ordeal. She looked so beautiful to him; her pale face seemed illuminated by the moonlight, and her freckles stood out in sharp contrast. There were tears forming near the edge of her eyes as she opened her mouth to speak.

"We had a fight near the end of school," she whispered, refusing to look him in the eye. "Lily shot a spell at me and it cut my neck. Madam Pomfrey couldn't understand it, but the scar wouldn't come off."

"What was the fight about?" Snape asked, intrigued.

Amelie shook her head and several snowflakes fell out of her hair. "No, I can't, you'll only think me a fool."

"I won't," he insisted, subtly moving a bit closer to her.

She looked up at him, a single tear streaking her perfect face, and sighed, "It was about you, Severus."

Snape was taken aback. "Me? Why in the world would you have a fight about me?"

She took a deep breath and replied, "Because I told her that I was hoping to get to know you better once school was over, and she got all huffy because she still cared about you."

His black eyes widened. "She…why…get to know me?" He stared at her, utterly shocked by this sudden rush of information.

"If it isn't already blatantly obvious, I was rather attracted to you during seventh year," she admitted.

Snow swirled around them and Snape had to tuck his hair behind his ear as he said, "You were?"

"Yes!" she sighed, exasperated. "And Lily said that I shouldn't even think about it, because you were turning sour and you were headed down a path I shouldn't follow. And I told her that I didn't give a damn, that she was just being selfish, and," she gulped, choking back more tears, "and she threw that spell at me."

Snape couldn't recall the last time he had ever been more confused by a woman, and was sure that this would be the last time it would ever happen. Lily had still cared about him, even after she had begun dating James? Then why did she marry him? Where was the sense in that? And what did she mean, "going down a path she shouldn't follow"? And why the bloody hell was this woman crying?

It was true. She was just sitting there, no longer able to keep the tears at bay. They were flowing down her cheeks and dripping off her chin into her lap. Snowflakes were sticking in the residue, but she made no move to wipe them from her face.

He cupped her small face in his hands and wiped a tear away, smiling kindheartedly. He felt pity for her, he felt compassion for her. And in that moment, he kissed her. He felt her instantly respond to his touch; her hand traveled up his arm and over his shoulder, her long fingers entwining themselves in his hair. He pulled her closer and felt her lips part. She seemed to want it even more than he did, and for a brief moment, he saw her thoughts; she clearly wanted him. Badly.

He broke the kiss, much to her disappointment. "Come on, it's getting cold," he whispered. "Let's…let's just go back."

She smiled faintly at him and took his hand. They walked in silence down the snow-covered path and crossed the street back onto Charing Cross. Snow continued to fall at an increased rate, and the bitter wind kicked it up and swirled it around them, but neither of them seemed to feel it. Their hands were entwined and they each had a blush on their cheeks, whether from the cold or from their emotions, they couldn't be sure.

There was a lone shop open on the corner, a regular Muggle newsagent run by a Muggle family. This, however, seemed to pique Amelie's interest, because she let go of Snape's hand and dashed inside only to return moments later with something wrapped in her hands. She handed it to him and smiled again.

"What…what is this for?" he asked, confused, as they continued to walk.

"Well I know it isn't Honeydukes, but," she blushed a deep crimson, "happy birthday, Severus."

Snape felt a foreign wave of happiness rush through him as he stared at her, blinking like an idiot. It was the first birthday present he had received in a long time…he couldn't even remember the last gift he got for his birthday had been, although it mustn't have been all that amazing.

"Amelie…I…" he stuttered. "Thank you." He looked back down at the chocolate bar, forcing back the smile that was creeping across his pale face.

The young witch blushed again as she continued to walk back to the Leaky Cauldron. Snape followed her, clutching the candy in his gloved hands. He wasn't sure if he should eat it or not. Should he just hold onto it forever, as a memory of her? No, that would be idiotic. A waste of a perfectly good chocolate bar.

Not that he really liked chocolate all that much, but a little bit here and there wouldn't hurt.

The grimy façade of the pub loomed in front of them, and Snape held the door open for Amelie as a rush of warm, welcoming air greeted them. Tom appeared from a door behind the bar, expecting a new customer, but when he realized it was just Snape and the girl, he returned to his private rooms.

He didn't know what to do at that point. Say goodnight? Talk some more? What was there to do? Snape felt very confused at this point, and he didn't like it one bit. He liked being in control of a situation, and confusion only aided in losing that control.

"Erm……yes…well…" He scratched behind his ear with his free hand and looked anywhere except into the amber eyes of the witch in front of him. "Goodnight, I guess."

He saw her eyes fall. He practically saw her heart sink within her chest. He began to climb the creaky wooden stairs, a comfortable bed waiting for him only yards away.

And a beautiful woman obviously yearning to share that comfortable bed standing not ten feet from him.

"Do…" he began, and watched her eyes light up. "Do you want to come up?"

Amelie practically leapt up the stairs. She hitched her robes and rushed up with him; the door threw itself open and the fire magicked to life.

"Amelie, I –"

She placed a slender finger on his lips and silenced him with a gentle "Shh."

His hands somehow managed to find their way to her face, again cupping it and pulling it close to his own. Their lips met; Snape felt a fire he rarely felt suddenly erupt below his navel, and was only too sure she had felt it as well. The kiss deepened as they pulled themselves closer to each other, all too aware of how desperately they yearned for the skin underneath each other's robes.

Their embrace reached fever pitch, and Amelie began to claw at Snape's robes in a frantic attempt to come in contact with the skin underneath. He found his own hands following suit; they deftly removed the blue robes she was wearing and felt her balmy, delicate skin underneath his palms. She continued to tear away at his own robes, throwing them carelessly to the corner of the room and collapsing into him, gracing his neck and shoulders with soft kisses that sent shivers through his body.

He caressed her arms, but stopped when he felt a rather crude tourniquet wrapped around her left forearm. He raised his eyebrows and began to ask, "What –"

She promptly stopped his words from coming out by planting another kiss on his lips. She pulled him toward her while she backed up, and gracefully fell onto the dark covers of the four-poster. He hesitated, glancing again at the wrapping on her forearm, before the hungry gleam in her eyes won him over, and he joined her as the hangings magicked themselves shut.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

A/N: Would Snape _ever_ ignore such a sign as a bandage on the left forearm of a woman he just met? Never in a million years. Why, you might ask, did I write it this way? Because it has to do with one of the ways I think Snape might have become the mean, crusty, apathetic man that he is today. And because God gave men only enough blood to run their brain or there….well you get the point. :)


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Severus Snape or any other characters from the Harry Potter universe. They all belong to JK Rowling. I'm not making any money off this story, just weaving my own tale for one of her brilliant characters. The only person I own is Amelie.

A/N: I know, there must be one of these every chapter. I have messages for my readers, so sue me. ANYWAY! I really am trying to stay as canon as I can here, but if Lucius comes off as being more of fanon than canon, please forgive me. I've been influenced by the fanon!Lucius. :)

Chapter Four

Severus could feel the winter sun warming his face, and he rolled over, away from the window. His eyes slowly opened and, though you wouldn't know it, his pupils dilated as they adjusted to the light. A tingling sensation crept up his back, and he lurched upright, staring at the unoccupied bed-space next to him.

He knew he had fallen asleep beside her. He had been inhaling the soft clover-like scent of columbine in her hair all night long. And now there wasn't a trace of her in the room except for a dent in the pillow where her head had laid.

He leapt up, searching desperately for her. She wasn't in the bathroom, and her clothes had been gathered from their place on the floor. Maybe she was downstairs, waiting for him? Snape began to pull his own clothes back on, though rather rushed, when he looked out the window. Walking at a rather quick pace was a tall figure clad in a blue traveling cloak.

His onyx eyes widened as he realized who it was, and jerked his shirt over his head before grabbing his own cloak and rushing down the creaky wooden stairs and out the door, shouting her name.

"Amelie! Wait!" he called, chasing after her.

She stopped, but did not turn around. He wrapped a hand around her arm as he came around to face her, and saw that her beautifully freckled face was streaked red with tears.

"Amelie, what's wrong? Why…why are you leaving?" he asked as he caught his breath.

She screwed her face up as if forcing her tears to stop their flow. "It's…I can't explain it, Severus……I have to go."

She turned to leave, but he held tight to her arm. "Why? Did you not feel anything between us? Was it just empty passion? Is there even such a thing?"

Amelie sobbed and whispered, "No, Severus……I did feel something. It wasn't empty passion. I just……we can't be together, Severus. The danger…I can't explain it, I must go." She made another attempt to escape, but to no avail.

"Will I ever see you again?" Snape asked as he pulled her into him.

"Perhaps one day our paths will cross again," she answered, and placed a frigid hand on his cheek. "I want you to know that I loved you……that I _still_ love you……just as much as she did. Maybe more."

Snape nodded knowingly at her, and brought his lips down on hers, holding her tight and wishing that they could stay trapped in that moment forever. Alas, it was not to be; she pulled out of his embrace and stepped away from him, and with a small _pop!_ she Disapparated.

He stared at the spot where she had been standing, savoring the feeling of her lips on his, before turning back to the pub. Depressed, he made his way back inside and ordered a strong cup of tea from Tom, who seemed only too happy to oblige.

Why was it that everything he loved had to leave him? His parents, Lily, now Amelie……it seemed that nobody was ever going to care about him to try hard enough, to make an effort to break through his steely exterior and meet the man within.

Why would she ever stay with him? It was a logical question; he wasn't exactly what most of the world would call "boyfriend material". He wasn't kind and gentle; he wasn't likely to make a very good husband or father. His patience had been worn to the nub by Potter and his gang and his pride was always getting in the way.

And he never trusted anyone.

_And yet, you felt you could trust her, Severus,_ a critical voice echoed in his head. _You poured your heart out to her; you leapt at the opportunity to take her as your own._

He did not want to think on it. Shrinking back into the shadows of the very same corner table he had been sitting at the previous night, he watched as several witches and wizards made their way in and out of the inn, some stopping for a drink, and others just passing through on their way to Diagon Alley. Snape's gaze was on the floor when he heard a drawling, satirical, and horribly familiar voice echo from above him.

"Why, if it isn't my dear friend Severus Snape," the voice said, and a strong hand clapped itself on the young man's shoulder.

"Hello, Lucius," Snape muttered as he raised his head, black strands of hair veiling his gaunt face.

A tall, blonde, arrogant figure stood before him, dressed in some of the finest robes made. His cold, critical eyes were intensely widened and his smile was laced with malice.

_Only in a Malfoy,_ Snape thought as Lucius drew up a chair and delicately pushed his hair out of his face.

"My, what a surprise, seeing you here," Lucius said in fascination. "Never in all my life would I expect to see you return to the Leaky Cauldron after you had escaped that dastardly place this country calls a school." He casually flicked a piece of lint off his pristine cloak.

"The same could be said of you," Snape hissed, glaring at the egotistical bastard sitting across from him.

Lucius smirked. "But whatever is the matter, dear boy?" he asked as if he cared. "You seem downtrodden. Come now, tell me what's happened this time."

Snape could feel his blood boiling. He didn't need to deal with this; he didn't have to put up with it. He wasn't in school anymore, he was a man, and he could just get up and leave Malfoy sitting there by himself. He could do whatever he wanted.

But he had no strength, which he hated himself for as he whispered, "She was beautiful, and she left. She was the only one that seemed to understand, that seemed to care…"

"Who, Severus? Who is this woman you speak of?" Lucius asked, egging Snape on.

He tried so hard not to answer. He pursed his lips and cursed himself a thousand times over as her name escaped his mouth: "Amelie."

"Oh, so you've met Miss Gregory, have you?"

Snape looked sharply at Lucius, who merely smiled. "What?"

Lucius nodded and kept his horrid smile fixed on his face as he explained, "Yes, she did tell us rather a lot about how much you were suffering...Come now, did you not know?"

Snape furrowed his brow as he asked, "Know what?" He sensed this was going to be bad. He knew in his heart of hearts he did not want to know whatever it was Malfoy was about to tell him.

"Why, my dear boy, did you not realize that it was Death Eater you bedded last night?" His stare became even more intense and his grin was pure evil as he wallowed in Snape's shock.

Snape felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach, and he felt drained of all blood. It was a lie; Lucius was pulling his leg. It was just a cruel joke, it would make sense; after all, Lucius was still an ass. Nothing could change that.

"You're lying," Snape spat as he glared again at the older man across the table.

"You yourself saw the bandage wrapped around her arm. The Dark Lord had only just burned the Mark into her skin, when he sent her on her first mission," Lucius explained, nonchalant.

Snape was going to scream. Her mission? What exactly had that been, to conquer him? To find out as much information as she could about him, as to recruit him to the side of Darkness? No! It couldn't be; he refused to believe it.

_Just when you thought you had someone to trust…_

"And now I must complete the task, for she has done her job," Lucius said, rising from the table and peering down his pointed nose at Snape. "The Dark Lord has requested your presence at our next meeting, to be held in a fortnight. We are all looking forward to your appearance." He nodded his head and turned on his heel.

Snape stared blankly into the crackling fire. It had all been a lie. Had one word of truth escaped from her soft, beautiful lips? Or had all her words been laced with deceit and shadow? What they had shared that night…that fervor, that emotion, it could not have been mustered simply because she needed him to believe her. That passion had come from her heart, just as it had come from his own. She had fallen asleep beside him, and he had heard her whisper that she loved him, even though he pretended to ignore it.

He could see her eyes, glowing with such ardent fire, in the embers of the hearth, and he buried his face in his hands.

_It's over, Severus. You are completely lost. Join him…perhaps you _will_ see her again._

Lucius had said the meeting was in a fortnight. Snape had made up his mind as he collected himself and stood to leave. He returned one last time to the room, packed his things, and made his way back into the wizarding world, changed. If one could see the man's heart, one would see the black sinews of betrayal and denial wrapping around the fragile organ. Severus Snape would never be the same man again.

THE END.


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